Trekking Sense
by Jervis Tetch Madness
Summary: Three shorts of three different pairings, compairng the five naturals sense's to each one. (Touch/Sight/Feel/Smell/Sound) Contains Spirk/Scones/Chulu. Slash/Smut/Fluff. Star Trek.
1. Spirk

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Star Trek: The Original Series, or any of the characters. This little bit was inspired by staring at my hands and Supernatural (gotta love Castiel) as well as a thousand hours of Star Trek. Just little stories for different pairings (Slash) in TOS for your guy's amusement,(Fluff and Smut) and based off of the Five sense's plus one. The plus one is a special thing, that is commonly seen in each pairing, but is never considered a sense. So Spirk starts us off, with the senses and then Scones (Bones/Scotty) is next then Chulu (Sulu/Chekov). I hope you guys enjoy~! ^^ LLAP_

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_Jim/Spock__ Spirk-_

_Feel:_

One of the sweetest things about being bonded to a Vulcan, is being able to touch the others skin, and feel the electricity, the emotions, flow through your body in waves. Heavy powerful waves that makes one feel like they're floating, in a rich sea of bliss, and make's even the most shallowest man feel loved, and beautiful.

When Jim first bonded with Spock, their minds slowly connecting to one another; it was a strange sensation, and Jim wouldn't be ashamed to admit that at first it was scary, it was weird feeling another being inside of his head, but it didn't take long to get used to it.

Every touch, every small caress feels like miles of silk, and years of eternal fulfillment that nothing could even begin to compare to. No god's or goddesses from any planet they had ever visited together, no charms or spell; nothing was even close to the solid yet liquid being of emotion.

Jim wasn't one to allow himself relief when things needed to be done, when work had to be finished, and lives had to be saved. He would sacrifice days of essential sleep, and work stressful hours, working against his own health, for the safety of his crew.

His back ached, his feet were sore, his ass was numb, and his hands cramped. He was always exhausted, and would perhaps get 3 hours of sleep, at the most, when his shift was over. Most people knew how he was treating himself, and Doctor McCoy had tried again and again to put him on Shore Leave for some simple R&R but would always be refused. He would in force medical leave for a week, and the Captain will spend hours working on reports and files.

Mentally and physically exhausted, he was walking on thin air for months. The aches turned to pains, and pains into something worse; The hypo sprays, and scans weren't much, and barely subsided. He needed relief, but was unable to be provided with such.

But when Spock, slipped his way into his life at the beginning of the five year mission, and slowly during the first two years landed closer from colleague, to friend, to lover, to mate; He began to feel the pains dull quickly to aches then sweet bliss, just by his Vulcan bondmates touch. The feelings so strong, and he learned that he could do the same to Spock, and ease his pain by taking it away. A caress of an arm, or any body part would work; as long as it was contact.

Vulcan kisses were sweet, and human kisses were golden, where sex felt like stars and galaxy's instead of a moments bliss. Spocks soft skin against Jims rough hands, a strong need for his bondmates touch, skin to skin contact; A touch for comfort, a touch for pain, touching yet never touched.

_Sight:_

When Jim looked in the mirror, he saw a tired content man in his early 30's. He didn't see the Captain of the USS Enterprise, he didn't see the handsome womanizer who stole and whisked away weak hearts. He didn't see a Starfleet Officer and he didn't see a friend; just a man.

A tired, aching man.

When he would enter the bridge for Alpha-Shift, he saw hard working men and women at their stations. Keeping the crew in check, as well as theirselves and the ship. He watched these people grow and learn from their mistakes, he's watched them hurt and pull themselves together, live and love. The glowing in their eyes, the vivid facial expressions, and how they walked from one place to another in swift confident steps.

And then there was him.

Spock; the only Vulcan aboard the ship, and the first half breed between Vulcans and humans. First Officer, and Science Officer of the _USS Enterprise_, and Jims best friend- and even more so.

When the golden haired man's eyes landed on him, he saw something beautiful. Deep chocolate brown eyes, that were always warm, and vivid with emotions when the man's perfect features were stoic and impassive. Thin soft lips, and high cheek bones, that were very common for Vulcans, but looked so right and so perfect on his face. Soft pitch black hair, the laid flawlessly straight on top of the mans head, with arched eyebrows that always prove his point, giving off the only real facial expressions that the Vulcan was willing to offer.

And those ears, those wonderful exotic ears; curved to a point. Jim was tempted, when he looked at those delectable Vulcan ears, to just stick his tongue out and drag it along the curve.

The shades of green that bestowed the Vulcans cheeks when ever he became embarrassed, (Which wasn't common) or aroused. The tips of those wonderful pointed things, turning into different shades of green. Tall and slender, yet fit but not over done. His shoulders stiff yet relaxed, his back straight, and arms clasped around his back, always the professional. The blue science uniform he wore, fit snuggly around his torso, and the black of his undershirt, contradicting against his pale skin.

To put it plainly, Spock was gorgeous.

Jim found himself staring at him often, and became increasingly embarrassed when he was caught; which, of course, was more often than not. It was just difficult not to be drawn to the piece of art working only 10 feet away from him- (Or how Spock puts it, 14.5 feet.) The way he walked, moved, tilted his head slightly to the left when he was confused, or the small ghost of a smile that would grace his lips when he was talking to someone he was fond of, or heard something he found humourous.

When Jim talked to him, joked with him, he saw that ghostly smile more and more often, and felt starved of it when it was gone. When they laid in their quarters, either huddled against each other, or playing a logical (Or in Jims case, Illogical) game of chess; he could see the light in the Vulcans eyes, and the laughter or contentment he saw hidden behind the others near stoic expression.

The way his cheeks flushed when Jim was inside him, how his eyes were just an explosion of emotion; of love, want, need, lust, adoration. Mouth parted slightly, Spocks way of showing he was aroused, and how his body pushed forward into Jims, because he needs him, needs to feel him, needs to have him.

Jim loved watching his face splay out in emotion, loved to see those eyes blooming, and mouth moving. His wonderfully curved jaw line practically begging to be bitten, and that smile that could blast away any klingon in a 100 mile radius.

The golden haired man found himself staring again, watching the Vulcan's eyes flutter close, and his breathing even out, and wonder to himself how he got so lucky.

_Sound:_

A match of chess, lost to the Vulcan once again. Jim smiled to himself, his '_illogical,' _moves weren't enough to confuse nor beat Spock, this time around. The losing didn't bother the golden haired man, because this was just a simple game, and was lucky to ever beat the brilliant man before him. It was always a win or lose situation when it came to his ship, to his crew's lives, but Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios. Winning and losing was just a perspective, and when he played against his First Officer, he could see it more clearly.

But a game is just a game, which makes losing not so bad. No lives are in actual danger if he were to move his king the squares to the left, or his horsemen 5 squares to the right, to the second to top piece. Chess was just logic, it also showed strategy and thought, making the game a good way to push your mental barriers and think of different ways to get where you want to go; to get that Checkmate.

Although, Jim loved to play chess, he really did, he mostly preferred the small talk he and his First Officer were to initiate, to keep the air friendly, and full of a little bit of life while they contemplated their next move.

Even though people believe that having a full on conversation with a Vulcan would be boring, Jim would be the first to beg to differ. Vulcans, Spock especially, knew a wide range of topics to keep people entertained and interested. From Solar powered flares, to the one time they witnessed and supernova; from scientific theory's, to strange and creative yet efficient and logical ideas on how to do such and such.

They may have been based on logic, they had a small sense of humor that most people and species didn't know about.

Jim loved talking to Spock, he wasn't entirely sure why he did, but a endless list could come to mind. For instance, the sound of his voice, was something the blond was very fond of. He couldn't put his finger one why, he just did. The baritone in his silk like voice, how his sound would grow soft when he spoke of things from his childhood that served as good memories, such as his pet Selhat, or how his mother Amanda used to tell him illogical tales when his father was away.

Jim loved how Spock would purr in his ear, when the captain was injured and in need of comfort, and the way the Vulcan growled when he was terribly aroused, or felt someone threatening to take James away from him, either sexually or fatilly. The way the noises ground against the others throat, was both sweet and enduring; either way the blond couldn't get enough of it.

Or how when he is distressed, either because Jim was dying (Before McCoy works his magic and somehow fixes him) or when in Pon Farr, how his language would slip into Vulcan, and mutter out words that Jim could barely make out, although it sounded like liquid bliss to his ears. The way the pronunciation was so fluid, and swift, each syllable rounded and sharp.

The sound of his bondmate breathing, silently asleep beside him, and how soft it was, and gentle, made the stressed man able to fall into the soft beating in his ears, and drift to a dreamless sleep.

_Smell:_

Jim held the Vulcan on his lap, the snow drifting and falling outside of the cave. He could feel the Vulcan shuddering in his grip, and the blond unconsciously tightened his grip. Brushing his face into the soft dark locks, feeling the freezing Vulcan tighten his grip around his torso. Jim could see his breath, drift away in foggy swirls away from his mouth, and held Spock closer. It was his fault they were in this mess in the first place, and now it was up to him to pay for his mistakes. He had removed his scarf, and mittens and handed them to Spock to help preserve his heat, while Jims was slowed being taken away from him; his heavy overcoat not doing much to keep him safe.

Spock shuddered, he didn't have a hat, and didn't have the heart to take away what little heat that Jim had left. Buirying his face onto the covered chest of his Captains, waiting and hoping that the Enterprise shows up to their rescue soon.

Jim wrapped his heavily covered arms a little bit tighter when a defiant shudder broke through the Vulcans back, having the man shake violently in his grasp. Breathing warm breath to the top of his First Officers head, to help give him as much heat as he could possibly provide. "I'm so sorry Spock,"

"It is not your fault, Captain," Spock muttered, through chattering teeth, "It was I who had not noticed the ion storm coming,"

"You couldn't have possibly knew that was going to happen," Jim sighed, pressing his cheek on the top of the Vulcans soft tuffs of hair. "It's not your fault." He inhaled through his nose, catching the scent of nature. Jim, despite himself, smiled. Spock smelled strongly of nature, and blueberries, butterscotch, and all of the things that were just, _Spock._

He could still smell the ocean breeze from the man's last shower, which Jim presumed was only a few hours before their shift started, earlier that day. Nuzzling his face against the cool warmth of the other, taking in his scent. Waiting for that call from communications, to tell them they're there, and ready to beam them up.

For now, none the less, he was content to hold the man, breath him in, and keep him warm.

_Taste:_

Jim shoved his face into the crook of his First Officers neck the moment the doors closed behind them. Bitting, sucking, and licking the small wounds he's created, how Spock digs his nails into the blonds clothed back. Jim florished in it, the sounds the movements, all of it enriching, and enticing, so erotic and exotic. Everything about Spock pushed him to his limit, and he needed to have him then and there.

Jim dragged his tongue along the Vulcans jaw line, tasting every inch along the way untill he met with the lobe of the ear, before tracing the curve to the point with his tongue. He tasted so alien, and so sweet, like flower petals of roses, and things the blond couldn't even begin to explain. His mouth moved to capture the Vulcans in his own, silently asking for entrance that Spock allowed instantly.

His hot wet mouth, tasted of some Vulcan tea, as well as something Chocolatey. His tongue mapped out every tooth and crevice of the others mouth, before parting for air. They panted, resting each others foreheads on the others, breathing the same air. Jim wrapped his arms around the Vulcans waist, pulling his body flush against his own; feeling the Vulcan press his hands against his face, cradling it in his grasp.

The vibrations through his skin, and his senses on fire, he pressed his mouth against the Vulcans once again.

-Every inch of the Vulcans body was begging to be bitten, and sucked on; Hovering over him, Jim lowered his head, letting his mouth relish the tight skin of the Vulcans chest, dragging his fingers through the light fluff that was resting there.

Lapping at the skin, his tongue was a burst with a flavor that was just everything _Spock, _and everything right and perfect. He loved the taste on his lips as he dragged them across the others body, teeth dragging lightly against his body. Spock softly moaned when those teeth sunk into his flesh, eyelids fluttering close.

Jim felt privileged, and honored, that he was the only one who could have the Vulcan in this way, felt a sense of pride that no one would be able to touch him in this way, or taste him the way he did. Spock was his, and nobody else's, and that fact only made the Vulcan taste that much sweeter.

_Sixth Sense: The Bond._

One of the absolute best things about being bonded to a Vulcan, is being able to know their emotions without even being in the same room. One could feel their happiness and discomfort, even when their face is impassive, and shoulders are relaxed. It all comes in mental waves, and the best part about it is, their significant other can send their emotions purposefully through the bond, as well as speak through it, share their pain and thoughts, and even comfort the other when stressed.

The bond was probably the best thing that has ever happened in James T. Kirk's entire existence.

He was Captain of the USS Enterprise, A Starfleet commander, son of George Kirk, and one of the Fleets best assets. He was James T. Kirk, and people and aliens alike knew his name for galaxy's; he was either a threat or a companion, either way, they knew him.

He was bonded, with the first ever half breed between Vulcan and humans, who was also one of the most brilliant and important Science Officer's that StarFleet had to offer, as well as one of their most important crew men. Son of the Ambassador Serak, and grandson to T'Pau of Vulcan, Spock came from a very important line of Vulcans in that clan. His entire existence was from something greater, that the just didn't feel the need to be apart of. Instead of staying he joined Starfleet.

Still, even after all of that, for the both of them, they had a bond that connected them even when their backgrounds were something so large in comparison, and yet so little.

The emotions shooting through them, the messages, and love, the feeling of someone so significant in the blonds life was in his head, and he never felt so full, so open like a book in all of his life, and he loved every second of it. He was aware of Spocks presence, even before the man entered the room. He knew when Spock was irritated or confused, happy, sad, infuriated, and so much more, and he knew that Spock had the same _'powers'_ that he did, perhaps even more.

Playing Chess, doing a mission, sitting in his captains chair, and even having sex, all of his sense's were heightened, and accelerated in ways he couldn't even begin to describe.

Spock, as everyone knew, wasn't one to admit having emotions, let alone showing them. He never said anything that would indicate emotion, which also means that a simple 'I love you,' was out of the question. But Jim could feel it, he knew that Spock loved him, and that's why he never pressed for the confession, because he could feel it in every part of his body, clenching around his heart, and wrapping around his brain. The affection, respect, adoration, all of it.

It was strange at first, getting used to having someone in his head, but it didn't take long before he felt the second mind fit into place. The emotions overwhelming, and thoughts that were not his own, blurring past him and taking the captain aback as he tried to make sense of all of it.

Spock had told him about how he put up barriers, so that only what he intends to show and share with his mate, would be shared, and that Jim wouldn't have to worry about having his brain filled with equations, and impossible theory's as well as overwhelming facts in Federation standard, as well as Vulcan flying at him.

Jim appreciated the sentiment, realising a bit too quickly how much the Vulcan had stored away in his cerebrum.

It took quite awhile, for Jim to use these barriers, and a bit longer still to learn how to share certain things with the Vulcan that he intended; but it was well worth it in the end. Those long nights sitting cross legged diagonal from one another, Spock's fingers pressed against his T'hy'la's psi-points, as he helped him rearrange his thoughts and pull together his barriers and emotions.

Jim would call their bond, a '_superpower,' _to which Spock would retort was an '_Illogical_ _assumption of natural Vulcan biology_,' but Jim could still feel the amusement through their bond, which brought a smile to his face, chuckling softly.

It brought them comfort when they were so far away from the other, on separate missions, different planets, or just across the ship. They could hear the others heart beat, echoing softly in their heads, felt everything they needed to, and was comforted by the sound.

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_Whoot~! This sucks. Sorry. Next up is Scones~! Whoo! I hope you guys enjoyed so far, thank you for reading this bundle, and don't forget to review~! Live long and Prosper._


	2. Scones

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Star Trek: The Original Series, or any of the characters. Now: Scones~!_

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_McCoy/Scotty__ Scones-_

_Feel:_

Doctor Leonard McCoys hands were covered in a deep warm thick liquid, stitching up the last of the ensign. Calling Nurse Chapel to his side, he injected a temporary anesthetic to keep his patient underway; he turned the man's vitals to Chapel, before he stalked off wearily to his office, hair disheveled and eyes heavy, rinsing off the blood in his personal sink.

He scrubbed at the warm liquid, hot water dripping down his hands before quickly turning off the faucet. It was late, and he was 3 hours into Delta-Shift. He should have been asleep by now, but a few unlucky red shirts needed him; luckily, he was having a straightforward _No-Casualties _kind of day.

Drying his hands, he grabbed a few left over PADD's, just containing the usual medical leaves and a few medical reports that he needed to fill out before his next shift. Yawning, he bid Chapel a good night, stepping out of Med bay, and finally leaving for his quarters.

The walk was mostly silent, besides few Delta-Shift ensigns walking and holding some simple small talk. It only took a few moments for him to make it to the lift, and just a little longer to get to his room. The door slid open smoothly, lights off, as he blindly tossed the PADDs over to the right; a soft noise indicated that they fell somewhere on a chair (Most likely his reading chair), as he stumbled onto his bed.

Kicking off his shoes, he didn't bother undressing, and just adjusted himself onto the side of the bed. Muscles aching, and feet nearly swollen, his back hurt and for once he was really feeling his age. A soft tired breath escaped his lips, as his eyes fluttered shut, leaning his head comfortably against his _suddenly oh so soft _pillow.

There was a soft shuffling to his right, before he felt a strong hand lightly touch his shoulder; the hand became more firm, as the shuffling moved closer, wrapping an arm around the doctors torso.

He reached up, grabbing the larger hand in his own, before scooting closer to the warm body. The skin of the palm was scarred and rough, tough around the edges, and the doctor could feel how used each of the digits were, and how worn the flesh felt.

The arm trailed over the doctors warm chest, resting across lazily before grasping the man's opposite shoulder. Leaning his head over, McCoy rested his cheek against a broad shoulder.

"Work'n over time, ay seh," The voice grumbled softly in its thick Scottish accent, turning his head to rest against the soft dark brown tuffs of hair on the good doctors head. McCoy only hummed in response, turning his body to drape a lazy arm across the strong chest on his right.

McCoy moved himself so he was comfortably laying halfway on the others body, leg laying over the others left, arm resting against the others strong chest. The man chuckled, "Good ta see ya to."

"Go to sleep, Scotty," McCoy mumbled, pressing his face comfortably against his shoulder, "Doctors orders."

_Sight:_

The observation deck was almost empty, besides the single straggler vindicating the premises, resting against the railing near the large window, looking out at the stars. Doctor McCoy watched as the stars drifted passed the large metal framed glass, moving further away untill another batch of equally brilliant stars came into view.

The room had a still silence settled over it, the soft hum of the engines under his feet. His eyes wandered around the balls of light, seeing so far out and away, and just relishing in the soothing sights.

He could see a Spiral Galaxy being passed from millions upon millions of light years away, although it seemed so close that he could almost reach out an touch it; Deep purples and dark blues, swirling together in brilliant whites and greens. Colors so purely vibrant against the pitch black of space.

The room was dark, but nowhere near black and voidless. The walls seemed aglow, in a dark blue, dancing in shadows across the steel platforms surrounding him, starlight glistening against the large window, shining brightly and reflecting against the glass.

A flash of red caught the doctors eyes, he turned his head to see a man approaching him, with a small smile wavering on his features; McCoy returned it in kind, when the scottsmen stepped besides him, moving to rest against the railing as well. They didn't say much to each other, mostly because no words were needing to be said, before their eyes roamed back to the galaxy, slowly drifting from view

The doctors eyes moved, and landed on the soft features of his companion; watching as the glimmer behind his deep chocolate brown eyes glowed as he stared off, searching for each ball of brilliant fire. The brunette couldn't help but stare at how the reflective blue illuminated the man's features, how it defined his laugh lines, worry lines, and all the lines in-between.

The wonder and fascination flashed across his dark orbs, and the doctor had almost forgotten that their were no windows down in the engine room; and how the man is always so busy, running around the ship, back and forth- not only working on the engines, but also fixing small machinery that had spontaneously combusted, for absolutely no reason at all.

The brunette figured that the man barely had time to admire what he dreamed of most, and perhaps the most beautiful thing about traveling throughout the stars. McCoy grinned, gazing at someone, even more beautiful than all the galaxy's and stars swirling together into a flurry of colors.

_Sound:_

It's quite a thing to wake up to the thick Scottish accent, mumbling huskily in one's ear to wake them up. The sound so rich and deep rumbling lightly from the mans throat, and how sweet it sounded on his tongue; His soft southern dipped tone broke through his own air pipes at the time before shift, before he can even begin to _think_ about controlling the tone.

McCoy remembers all the times that Scotty would comment on how much he loved how it sounded, no matter how much McCoy would deny even having it; before the scottsmen would chuckle or leave a trail of kisses to his mouth, trying to convince him to speak like that again.

It wasn't that McCoy was ashamed of his accent, not in the least. He just didn't find anything charming about it, or professional in his profession- It's hard to tell a patient they're dying when they can barely take you seriously.

But, Scotty insisted he loved it, loved the way it sounded, and rolled off the doctors tongue, and had on a few occasions convinced the older man to speak to him freely, heavily accented when they were alone and nobody could hear them.

In those small hours when they could speak unrestrained, tones and voices going back and forth, the soft sound of joyful and amused laughter that they shared, when nobody was around or listening; or nearly silent when their shift was over, laying in bed and just listening to the other breathe. To hear the soft intake, and exhale, or, if they're quiet enough, to catch the others heart beat, drumming in their ears, thumping in a persistent steady beat.

_Smell:_

The heavy scent of Whisky wafted past the doctors nose, who nuzzled his face into the younger man's thick dark tuffs of hair. Fingers dragging across the scalp, and breathing in the other mans scent; the light aroma of cologne almost cancelled out entirely by the heavy smell of engine oil and rust that seemed to cling to the scottsmens pale skin.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, Doctor McCoy had his legs spread accordingly to accommodate the scottishmans size between them. Strong arms wrapped around the doctors middle, pressing against the small of the older man's back, pressing his body flush against the Engineer's.

Sloppy kisses trailing down and around the others jaw line, in a warm blinding embrace; The good doctor just melting in the scent that was all around _Scotty, _in every which way possible. Something drifting warmly in the clean air of his office, giving it that heavy dirty yet sweet aroma that was everything that the Scottsmen prided himself in; with _Engineering Officer, _and_ Overworked miracle worker_ written all over it, and wrapped in a bow.

The doctor breathed it in deeply, wanting to just drift along with the waves that just draped around the dark haired man.

After two years into the five year mission, the two had grown closer, almost impossibly closer. Their colleague relationship having '_Switched into overdrive,'_ as Scotty likes to put it, and they hit off pretty quickly. They weren't just strictly colleagues for very long; having become friends almost instantly upon meeting each other, but as the two years flew by, they became increasingly closer, until they couldn't handle the tension anymore.

They've been secret together ever since- McCoy mused on the fact, suddenly realizing how dangerous a position they were in; anyone could walk into the room at any given moment and spot them as clear as day. But, perhaps that was the excitement of it all, the fear and thrill of trying not to get caught.

Scotty moved, pulling the doctor closer, chests flush against the others, as the younger man moved his hands to the doctors sitting rear, dragging his fingers to grasp the base of the mans legs before capturing his lips in his own; the doctor got a whiff of some scotch from the mans lips, and smiled to himself. The thrill was worth it.

_Taste:_

"No,"

"Just this once!"

"I said, no."

"Ay just need ya ta-"

"Forget it."

Scotty sighed, taking ahold of the doctors wrist gingerly. McCoy gave a disgruntled noise, but didn't bother attempting to pull away; The dark haired man had finally finished tampering with the Replicator, adjusting a few wires and updating the software. He had been dying to get ahold of the new food updates, and found one of his old favorite snacks as a child.

He grabbed the Twinkie and tried to hand it over to the doctor who continued to refuse the treat, saying it's '_Unhealthy,' _and '_would eventually rot out _blah blah _and _blah _goddamn calories and-_' Scotty wrinkled his nose at the comments, and chuckled at the man's stern tone. He had told him a few unhealthy treats wouldn't kill him, and that the brandy that he's so fond of could do a number compared to the little bit of sugar.

"Ay'm just say'n," Scotty chuckled, tearing the fluffy treat in two putting one in his mouth and setting the other on the side table. "You'll like et."

McCoy gave him a stern look, turning back to his PADD, scrolling down the page. "I'm not interested."

"It wouldn't hurt ya ta try et," The dark haired man smiled, "Just a wee nibble lady, and I'll leave ewe alone." And, as if proving his point, he placed his hands in the air in mock defeat, before setting them back to his sides. McCoy mumbled under his breath, _most likely profanity's, _Scotty mused, but watched as the brunette set down his PADD and reached for the treat.

The man eyed it down, as if it had grown an eyeball and was covered in the swine flu, before plopping it in his mouth. Scotty watched as the man chewed and swallowed, before grabbing his PADD once again, and taking a seat behind his desk. Scotty was waiting for some sort of response, but got none; the scottsmen placed his hands almost womanly on his hips. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Whut did ya think?"

He only received a shrug in return. A soft puff of air escaped the mans lips, before walking over to the Replicator on the far side of the room, he replicated another twinkie, tearing off a small piece and placing it in his mouth; walking over he spun the man around almost violently in his chair, getting a small unmanly squeak in surprise, before grabbing the doctors blue medical shirt and slamming his lips against the older mans.

He knew that after he swallowed, that there would still be a strong taste of the treat on his tongue, as he pushed it past the others lips. They kissed roughly for a few moments before the dark haired man pulled away, eyes scanning the doctors face. He looked flustered, and content, his tongue swiped across his lower lip.

"Perhaps," He started, panting slightly, "They're not _too _bad."

Scotty smiled at him, before leaning in to capture his lips again.

_Sixth Sense:_

If there was one good thing about being in a relationship with the good doctor, was that he always somehow knew when his Scottish lover was in danger. The engineer had no idea how the man did it, when ever he was injured or what not; Because he was always only self aware that the Doctor would be by his side in less than 15 minutes, really depending on how far away the man was.

Scotty had asked, on a few occasions, when the doctor was patching up a large gash on the mans left shoulder, or stitching up his arms and legs, or even just a small cut on his forehead. McCoy had merely shrugged, every time the subject was brought up, mumbling about just knowing.

It was hard to believe, to be honest. How could this man just _know _when he was hurt? That's not even slightly possible. Scotty assumed for a while, that it was ensigns contacting the man without his knowledge, or that the doctor had secret nurse spy's watching the dark haired man's every move. The thought unnerved him a bit, but tried not too think about it too much.

One day, though, his theory's were proved wrong.

A Klingon vessel was attacking the ship; everyone was at their battle stations, quickly running and trying to keep the ship in one piece. Scotty was alone down in one of the separate rooms in engineering, adjusting knobs, and pushing the engines to their fullest. Everything was moving as smoothly as it could, given the circumstances, and were pushing their limits. He ran his fingers over the steels, whispering encouraging nothings to the machinery, before going to work on a blown circuit.

He couldn't remember what had happened, what had blown, and what had short circuited, but he remembered the fire, and the smoke; he couldn't remember what was going on and he couldn't remember how long he was out before being stirred awake violently.

He saw a bright white, burning his eyes, and having to close them quickly once again. It was blinding; he heard faint voices in his ears, and a soft beeping over head. He couldn't make out what the voices were saying, and tried not to think too much on it. He attempted opening his eyes, slower this time, adjusting his sensitive eyes to the lighting.

Once his eyes grew accustomed to the brightness, he saw McCoy speaking to a nurse just a few feet away from him, mumbling a few orders to Chapel before writing a couple things down on his PADD. Chapel gave a curt nod, taking the device before leaving the room. McCoy turned to face the scottsmen, and was actually surprised to see the man awake; mumbling an '_I'll be damned,' _under his breath before making his way briskly to the man's side.

"How you feelin?" Bones asked, checking the mans vitals before turning to face him properly, voice soft and concerned.

Scotty attempted to nod his head, but a stab of pain caught him by surprise, wincing; he instead, smiled, "Still in pain, doc, but'll beh fine."

The doctor pulled out a hypospray, and quickly injected it in the younger males neck. A flood of relief washed over the scottsmen, who relaxed against the medical bed. It was then, and only then, that the engineer realized where he was, he didn't recall being in Sickbay when the engines blew- the engines blew.

"Is the' Engine's okay?" He asked, moving as much as his neck would allow him, to look up at the doctor. McCoy nodded.

"Yeah, I stumbled on you right on time," He began, taking a seat on the bed directly across from the dark haired man, "I called a few engineers and they were able to fix the place up before it exploded. You've got a reliable group under your wings." He reached over, taking ahold of the tattered mans hands warmly, his features increasingly becoming relaxed.

Scotty breathed out in relief, the ship was safe.

"But, I told you before, you stubborn thick-skulled lunatic," The doctor sneered half-heartedly, "You may be a miracle worker, but you can't handle the entire ship by yourself. I'm sorry to break it to ya, but you're not god."

Scotty gave a warm chuckle, a shy smile lifting on his lips, "A man can try, can't 'e?" A thumb rubbed soothingly on the side of the engineers hand, a sad chuckle escaping the doctors lips, "I guess not."

The dark haired man, returned the gesture as best as he could, before a question came to mind. "What were ya doin in Engineerin' anyhow? Weren't yew needed in sickbay?"

The doctor looked at him a moment, before give a curt shrug. "I honestly don't know, felt like I was needed. So I ran down, and evidently, I was."

"Is that like some sort'o power, yew doct'rs have?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Scotty waved his non-burn-up-arm, idly a moment. "Yew know," He placed his hand back on the bed, "How yew just _know, _when some'ins hurt."

McCoy just shrugged, intertwining their fingers together. "No, just a feeling I sometimes get."

* * *

_Whoo! I hope I got Scottys accent correct. I really really hope so- Anywho, I don't have much I have to say about this. Just that I had a bit too much writing it. Up next is Chulu~! I hope you enjoyed, Thank you for reading and don't forget to review~! ^^_


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